‘Entanglements, yes, I agree,’ she said. ‘I’m on a boyfriend break myself. I came to Italy for a reason and I shouldn’t have become distracted.’ She knew she was withdrawing to protect herself but she couldn’t fall for someone who didn’t want to be fallen for. She didn’t enjoy Brendon trying to make her have feelings she didn’t have and she wasn’t going to put someone else in the same disagreeable position. She steeled herself to speak airily, like an adult who knew that casual encounters happened all the time. ‘We had a lovely night together. Let’s keep it as a memory.’

His dark eyes widened and he released her wrist.

She rushed on. ‘Also, I was wrong to give you half-informed advice. It went badly.’

His brows drew together. ‘You keep apologising for that. Please stop. I was angry at the situation and the way things are stacking up against me, not at you.’ Then Lucia and Durante said goodbye to the guests and headed back to the table, still discussing something to do with the guest’s dog, who was a yappy Jack Russell who saw it as his task to warn his humans that people were occupying other cottages. Piero rose to his feet and began to move off, raising his voice in a genial, ‘Ciao!’ as if leaving for no better reason than his after-work wine having been drunk.

‘Ciao, Piero!’ they called as they returned to the table.

Zia’s eyes followed the smoothly striding figure until he disappeared through the tall cypress trees that stood like inky brushes against the purpling sky.

A few hours later, playing Tiwa Savage on her laptop to fill the silence, Zia got into bed, trying to make the most of what breeze there might be by leaving her windows open and the fly screens shut. Checking her emails, she found a message from the private investigator. With a hand that suddenly felt as if it belonged to someone else, she clicked to open it.

It was a short missive, topped and tailed by legalese and disclaimers, but there it was.

Enquiry target: Harry Robert Anstey DOB 14.05.1949

Currently residing at: 4a Herbert Road, Chichester PO19 5PZ UK

Time at this address: 5 years+

No other registered occupant of this address.

She stared at it, heart hurrying … before dropping to a walking pace.

Oh. No phone number. No email address.

She checked the private investigator’s website and saw that at no time had those contact details been promised as part of the package. A google of Harry’s name along with the address failed to render much more, not even a social media profile. But, Chichester? That was only an hour away from Brighton.